


Bedtime Stories

by merae2888



Series: Better Together [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke gets high. Bellamy tries not to be charmed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Stories

 “I think we lost the goddamn moon.”

Bellamy finds her on her back, slurring swears at the heavens. She does this sometimes, when Monty and Jasper grind up the good herbs. She gets high and starts to forget about how things like gravity work. He can smell the smoke from where he stands over her, frowning. Her golden hair is silver in the scant starlight and she’s frowning too, like the sky might fall on her but it wouldn’t _fucking_ dare. “Where did it go?”

“It’s okay, Clarke. It’ll come back. It always comes back.”

The leg of his pants tightens when she grips it tight, curls her nails into the fabric. “How do you know? Did you talk to the moon about its vacation from the sky?”

He rolls his eyes, shoves away that bit of himself that finds her endearing against all odds.

“This is the new moon, which is why it’s not visible. The moon’s revolution around the Earth lasts 27.3 days, which means that in its current cycle, we can’t-“

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you humongous nerd.” She’s smiling though and maybe she winks or maybe the stars make it so. Either way, Bellamy lies down then, not without some grumbling, Clarke laughing as he settles beside her. Their fingers brush against each other, once bloody knuckles now only dirtied with wanting. She curls around his arm, slips her fingers along his bicep, rubs her face into his sleeve. He fails to keep his nose out of her hair.

“Bell?”

“Yea?” he hums.

“Tell me their stories. You know their stories, right?”

“Sure,” He glances down, and her eyes are brighter than the stars she’s staring at. “Which one?”

“All of them.”

He spends the rest of their lives telling her bedtime stories.


End file.
